Sam's Suffering

It must have been at least two hours that I was left in this stress position. And shoulders were exhausted, abs sweaty and red from the nonstop beating I received from the crop. I was uncomfortable for sure, but not sure if I would call it suffering. Nevertheless, it was incredibly hot and I was enjoying this session.

“Good boy, Sam. Hope you enjoyed your warm up.”

Sir Tom came close to lick the sweat from my abs. I was trembling. Warm. His tongue tickled. He traced my muscles up to my right nipple, stopping to nibble on it roughly. Again I groaned into my gag.

My eyes rolled as pain and pleasure were mingling together in a gray space when I found myself collapsing on the ground. 

“Your muscles held out for quite a while. I’m impressed, Slave Sam. But now I’m curious about the lower half of your physique. But first…”

He undid my restraints from the anchor points below. The blood came rushing back into my extremities as they were granted motion and with that, actual pain. I howled into my gag. I was helped up onto my feet and he moved me over to the bondage table. I was strapped in, spread eagle, pants still on again.

“I do like to take my time. These abs need more punishment.”

He pulled a bullwhip from the wall, taking a moment to drag its long, thin tail across my belly. 

SLASH.

The whip cracked on my abs hard. Instantly a welt was painted on my abdomen. I couldn’t help but scream. 

He continued his assault, not backing away, not slowing down. If anything, it was slowly building in intensity. I struggled against my bonds, tears rolling down my cheeks…and my cock was rock hard. Sir noticed, grabbed my cock and balls in his hand, squeezing.

“Fuck. Guess you’re the real deal. I’ve finally found a fellow pain pig.”

This torture continued for quite a while. Sir Tom pulled out his dick and started playing with himself as I suffered for him. This was hell, and it’s exactly what I dreamed of. I had decided.

CRACK

“MER-HE!” I screamed.

He paused, sweat dripping from his leather clad body. He removed my ball gag.

“Thirty seconds boy. Stretch out your jaw because it’s not getting another break until eight in the morning.”

I did as he said, my heart pounding as I built up the courage. “Sir Tom. I would like to continue my suffering until the evening.”

“You want to be tortured for 24 hours, boy?”

“I can stay til Sunday, Sir. 48 hours if you will have me.” Shit. The Cock has a louder voice than the brain sometimes.

“Presumptuous boy.” Sir went back to the wall and retrieved a bit gag, one that was wider than most bit gags I had seen in porn. He strapped it between my teeth, keeping it stretched on the ends and testing my jaw muscles. Already way less comfortable than the ball gag. He licked the gag in my mouth, as seemed to be customary for him, but continued to lick. I moaned as he made out with my gagged face. “This requires some changes, boy.”

CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.

The strikes come quickly and fiercely.

“But I will hurt you for as long as you let me.”

He undid my ankle  restraints and unbuckled my belt, pulling my pants down and leaving me in my jockstrap. 

“Were you expecting me to torture ur hole?”

My ankles were restrained again. He adjusted the table to pull my legs to the side like I was in a split.

“Flexible for a big guy.” he remarked with a grin.

I do some acrobatics for fun, but didn’t know I could do a split. My hips were straining in the position but nothing I couldn’t handle.

The rolled out a fucking machine and faced it towards my hole. Sir removed the dildo, lubed it up, and proceeded to fuck me with it. It was forceful and painful, but glided in surprisingly well. It glided across my prostate and my breathing intensified. I began to grind my hips to get a deeper fuck in my hole, moaning all the way.

“This Slave is a pro at taking cock, isn’t he?”

I groan in response. After three hours straight of torture, pleasure was an altogether foreign concept.

CRACK. “Answer me, Slave!”

“YETH SHIR! I AM COCK SHLUT SHIR!”

My jock is drenched in pre-cum and Sir notices. He slides the dildo all the way in, swiftly, keeping pressure on the end. My back arches and I curse. He attaches a Hitachi wand to the end and leaves me to endure while he works on another project. 

The hitachi turns off. I struggle to catch my breath, the gag making breathing a strategy to figure out. My vision focuses again on sir, rolling the fucking machine towards me again, however what I see horrifies me. He generously lubes up a monster dildo, easily three times bigger than anything that’s ever fucked me. I whimper and struggle as Sir lubes my hole aggressively and places the tip inside me.

Sir comes up to me, kneeling to my eye level and turning me to face him. “Sam, we’re halfway through the first session you agreed to. But you asked to make it forty-eight hours. Domming is a very demanding role, I’m sure you can imagine. I need to rest, even if you don’t, so I’m getting a hand.” He points up to the corner. “Up there is a camera recording everything so that I can monitor you. I’ll be back in two hours with the guy who taught me everything I know. In the meantime, you will be fucked. Mercilessly.” 

He tapped on his phone and the machine whirred to life. I squeal as the big black machine cock forces itself into me, slowly. 

“It will speed up every twenty minutes, Sam. It will not feel good, but based on how hard you are, you will enjoy it anyway like the pain hungry faggot you are.” I’m not so sure, but he’s right. I am hard. 

“Pleash shir!” I beg

“No, Sam.” He licks my gag again. “You asked for this. You need this. I’m going to destroy your cunt. And when I return, you will suffer even harder at the hands at two doms.”

Sir Tom slipped on his leather jacket, fixed his leather tie, and left me.

I looked down at the machine having its way with me. It was not going very fast, and not even going all the way in….yet. But I felt every inch. I groaned in my lonesome, adjusting to the feeling of my hole stretching. Sir was right, every twenty minutes, it sped up considerably and introduced  another inch to my hole, the dildo getting thicker as the base got nearer. It remained the same, I would suffer, scream, and then cope and adjust to the new normal. And then it would get worse. There was no way to stop this. I did ask for it. A part of me felt I should have stopped at eight am, but through this process I realized, I am a masochist.     Even though I hate what’s being done to me, it turned me on that I’m enduring it.